


lover, lover, (to be held by you)

by gabriphales



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Resolved Sexual Tension, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25278862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: gabriel visits the bookshop, and indulges in a few cardinal sins. (namely; wrath, pride,envy.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens), a/c is mentioned
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	lover, lover, (to be held by you)

**Author's Note:**

> this took me a week to write and i fucking hate it now bc i wrote it thru writers block

it's like carving butter with a butcher's knife, aziraphale thinks. absolute overkill; a cruel overestimate of how much he can take. gabriel's hands linger on the spine of one of his novellas - his fingers drag, scraping with nails that peek just over the edge of every blunt tip. they're the only part of gabriel that isn't seasoned to perfection. made up of chipped, crooked lines. an uneven silhouette. some of them longer than the others, his thumb clearly an unfortunate victim of being nibbled at.

it's the only thing aziraphale has over gabriel in terms of attention to detail. his fingernails. and whilst it's entirely pathetic to linger on something so small, so unimportant, he can't help himself. the concept curdles something in his chest, turning blood to a thick, coagulated matter. like rosewater bile; spitting up flower petals, with pollen a noteworthy aftertaste.

he almost wants to gasp for air, stifle his mouth under the weight of his palm, and _breathe_ out the nausea. but he doesn't. he doesn't, because he has to keep sense of himself, lest he make his fancies too obvious.

gabriel smiles, and looks him dead in the eye. taking advantage of how aziraphale will let him, when he never lets anyone - not _anyone_ else.

(what he doesn't know, of course, is that aziraphale very much so has shared plenty of longing gazes with his other object of affection. as it is, gabriel doesn't even know there _is_ another object of affection - or, rather, that there's a matter of affection whatsoever. he's really quite oblivious.)

(aziraphale isn't sure whether to be grateful for that, or mourn the missed opportunity of being spotted, rather than having to admit.)

gabriel's eyes curve over to a corner of the room. aziraphale watches them the whole while, clicking his tongue against his soft palate, quiet inside his mouth. they're so gorgeous - the eyes, that is. and all terms that might describe them feel terribly overwrought with cliché, squeezed dry by the end of the eighteenth century. used up by every poet with the heart to hold a pencil to the lilacs in their garden.

 _chrysanthemum,_ aziraphale decides upon a comparison slightly less tired. though it's rather unfair to compare any flower. any _earthly_ thing will, inevitably, fall short of gabriel.

that's why aziraphale can't compare to him, either. he's gone spoiled, rotten on cardinal, luscious sin. the indulgences of hedonism, of daring to _enjoy,_ when he should really only perceive.

still, gabriel is beautiful. and to lack appreciation for such a blatant, unopposable beauty is a sin in of itself.

gabriel spots something in the corner of the room, and he smiles again, all too wide. aziraphale's mouth goes dry.

"these are darling," gabriel says, stepping over a defensive stack of books that _ought_ to have prevented from seeing what he saw in the first place. "i've always taken you for an animal lover. i wouldn't think you'd need a fake in your home, of course."

his hands close around the cursed, dreadful thing. plucking it up, and holding it to his chest. _cradling,_ in a manner that suggested more love than it did mocking. aziraphale's heart nearly gives out, jumping from his chest down to his stomach, rooting down to twist in his intestines. his fingers clench, hands balling into fists. damn that _blasted_ bear, and damn crowley for not talking him out of its purchase. just for this moment, this pox on his life, he ought to curse steiff for every toy they've ever made, blacklist them in the name of god.

it is actually quite valuable, all things considered. aziraphale had bought it back in the early nineteen hundreds. and now, considering both its age, and pristine quality, he could sell it for a potential sum of at _least_ a few hundred. certain people find such things a treasure, and currently, aziraphale wishes more than anything that he would've given it to the first collector that trampled into his shop, having a go at prices.

"i, er - well, i suppose i found it a close enough fascimile i would have been loathed to leave it alone. didn't want it feeling unwanted." aziraphale poorly explains himself, fidgeting with his hands, thumbs pressing so tightly against one another it's a positive wonder he hasn't burst a tendon somewhere in there. his eyes pinch together, and the sockets seem to well up with a precedential heat. the swollen prelude to tears. he has to blink them away. there's no point it working himself up over a tad bit of embarrassment.

(except he's not just embarrassed. he's ashamed and hot in the back of his head, steaming the space between skull and flesh. his skin feels like it's pounding, beating with every tired thrum of his heart. and he can't take it, he can't take another slip of gabriel's tongue. another unintentional insult, friendly teasing - with _friendly_ being the part that hurts worse.)

gabriel doesn't notice, brushing loose curls from the teddy's glass eyes, and saying, "you're the reason everyone expects us to be nice, you know."

aziraphale hesitates, breath hitching. "pardon?"

"the humans." gabriel says. "they think we're all soft, sweet, _emotional._ nurturing creatures."

he's still pampering the bear in attention, not bothering once to lift his head, but aziraphale feels irrevocably seen. 

"but we aren't meant to nurture, are we, aziraphale? we're meant to do a certain job, and do it wisely. but angels aren't _required_ to be kind. it's not part of the job description. you made us into something they can trust. be not afraid isn't exactly necessary now, is it?"

gabriel finally looks at him. stares him up and down, with pointed sabers of eyes. "is it, aziraphale?"

his voice is so soft. aziraphale rarely hears it as anything but intrepid brashness. his heart aches, it aches and aches and _aches._ like hot milk, like sharp blades scraping at the bottom of a metal basin, like white, white, _white._ nothing but white. it takes over his vision, spotting the corners. and it lances in his tongue, a needle through pink meat. he can't speak, can hardly even breathe. there's no words to cover all the things he wants to say.

"i don't know." aziraphale admits, breathier - and, unfortunately, tearier - than he'd like to be. "what would you like me to say?"

and gabriel puts the toy aside, back in its original spot. he steps closer, and aziraphale has to close his eyes - he can't bear it, he's shuddering with every creak in the wood, every heavy press of the dull end of a loafer's heel. gabriel crosses over the rug that's laid on the floor between them, and aziraphale counts each step. pressing, pushing. it softens and hardens when gabriel clicks from cloth to wood. 

the stepping stops. aziraphale hears gabriel reach out before he even feels it, and flinches with the first touch. a hand against his cheek, and a thumb over his chin. gabriel tilts his head up.

"open your eyes." he says. his breath is warm. it tingles where it lays upon aziraphale's skin.

he obeys.

gabriel's lips thin with the pleasant, overbearingly pleased grin they pull into. "so gorgeous. i like them even better than when they were gold."

aziraphale's suffocating on clouded air, his fingers tremble. "when i was of the cherubim?"

gabriel nods. he hasn't taken his hand away.

"i was stronger then. braver."

"still pretty strong now."

aziraphale shakes his head, effectively proving his own point. he isn't strong enough to resist, not anymore. the stakes are too high against him, he's strained beyond what any angel should have to swallow. heaven help him, and god forgive, because he's surely being tested right now, and he's quite certain he isn't going to win.

but gabriel's hand grips tighter, and he isn't letting go. "you should know better by now than to disagree with me. if you weren't strong, you wouldn't let me do this."

and he kisses him.

aziraphale's body goes limp, stumbling as he drags himself away. there's an internal struggle that whips around inside his stomach, spinning and spinning, making him hopelessly ill.

"i'm sorry," gabriel comes chasing after him, following every move he makes. "i should have asked first, i didn't - "

but he can't speak, because aziraphale's already kissing him back. a warm mouth to spark heat in the deepest caverns of his abdomen. like his heart were put over a stove burner, melted gently in fire, tasting and smelling and _feeling_ so much of aziraphale all at once. a pure sensory overload. one he can't get enough of.

"i love you," gabriel breathes out against him. "i love you more than i can explain."

aziraphale doesn't bother with responding. only humming a wordless reply. focusing more instead on how gabriel's hands have cupped atop his shoulder blades, and how he holds onto him as if he's reliant on the touch to remind him that aziraphale is still here. aziraphale is here, with him, _wanting_ him. 

"come home." gabriel whispers. "to us, to _me._ "

aziraphale pauses, the hot press of gabriel's lips sinking over his own a marvelous distraction that he can't give into. "i'm sorry?"

"please," gabriel's voice warbles, he's never stooped to such a pleading, desperate tone before. sounding frightened of the answer he might receive - of refusal.

"please, come home with me. i can't take having you down here."

aziraphale stares. he stares, and he stares, but there's nothing insincere he can make of gabriel's statement. he looks exhausted the more aziraphale takes him in. rounded, wet eyes, that sag under the precipitation he won't let fall. with a shaky, cautious thumb, aziraphale cups that drooping expression in his hand, and rubs at the places gabriel's tears might have dampened were he to finally let himself cry.

"my dearest," he mutters, crackling on the words. "i have a duty on earth, you know that better than anyone."

"but i - " gabriel stammers. "i love you. isn't that enough? shouldn't it be enough for us to be together, always?"

aziraphale doesn't dwell on all the things he wants to scream over from such a simple set of words. he's grown all too familiar with how exceedingly insufficient love is, when it comes to matters of feeling, versus _acting_ upon said feelings.

he shakes his head, ringing his hands together. a thin sheen of sweat coats his palms like a fine, oily balm. he's ransacked with nerves, irreparably stuffed full of the needles and pins that make up superficial attraction. in his heart of hearts, he knows he doesn't need gabriel. he doesn't need him like he needs crowley. it's simply a pleasant thought to consider - having a warm, bulky body to rest upon. knowing he'll be safe however he lays, so long as he has gabriel at his side. gabriel is strong, gabriel is _powerful._

and, most importantly, gabriel is everything he is not. he can fill the hollow gaps aziraphale leaves wide open in himself.

"not always, i'm afraid." he says. "but i'd never be opposed to your visiting."

something thickens in gabriel's gaze. a surge of adrenaline that starts to clot. the hand that's remained on aziraphale's back lifts higher, drifting over the back of his neck. and it's such a delightful fright, the tingling, hot air that comes before gabriel's fingers against his flesh. curving, _curling_ around his throat. a pointed, persistent thumb making a well-articulated moral argument while it presses atop aziraphale's adam's apple.

"do you want me here, aziraphale?" gabriel forms the question into a demand, tightening his grip. the pressure locks into carotid arteries, and however unintentional gabriel's roughhousing must be, (he's often unaware of his own strength, unfortunately) aziraphale still gets hot between his legs. an unbearable presence that stirs warmth inside him, making him lightheaded, skipping on air with every unsteady breath he takes.

"please," aziraphale chokes, reaching out for him. "please, i can't stand to be alone any longer."

gabriel's mouth twitches in a straight line; trembling, barely sugar-coated anger. "you wouldn't be alone, not with us."

"i can't," aziraphale's panting softly, his want only growing more unfeasible to temper when gabriel's hand loosens, curling into the baby hairs at his nape instead. fingers tug, fingers _pull._ gabriel's always does better with _being_ convincing, rather than trying to convince. his hips press in closer, a pin-length space left to barrier their contact. aziraphale knows what'll happen if he allows himself to be touched - aziraphale _knows._

"we could all take care of you. and you'd love it. you'd love every second of it, i'd make sure of that." gabriel's mouth reaps teeth and tongue upon his throat, jagged love-lines in the form of pink indents left behind as he bites.

aziraphale feels his ankles wobble, his balance steering off center. "i couldn't handle it." he says, his convictions weak.

"then just me." gabriel kisses where his skin's gone raw and tender, lapping over it. "i can show you how deeply you're loved, how much i need you."

"show me now, if you have the heart to."

gabriel breaks, just as beautifully as aziraphale had imagined he might. sharp fingers digging into his hips, dragging him inwards - finally touching, finally _there._ aziraphale gasps, his arms finding desperate perch in gabriel's shoulders, clinging onto him. he's kissed again, lacking all the refined chastity of their previous attachment. and he shivers, giving up on any remaining restraint. there's nothing to hold back from, not with gabriel's hands on him, his presence burning holes in the comfort of a familiar space.

"you are - " gabriel steers back, pushing aziraphale into one of the many bookshelves surrounding them. "everything i could ever ask for. and i'm asking. let me _have_ you."

wood rattles with the increase in force, a few books behind them daring to shift into new positions. falling to the side, stretching in a diagonal train. the back of aziraphale's hand traces along gabriel's cheek. and it's meant to be a comfort, honey-sweet in the distance it still cultivates. but all gabriel feels is teased, toyed with, invited in with no intention of letting him stay.

"you already do." aziraphale tries to appease him. 

gabriel is anything but appeased. "obviously not. you belong to somebody else."

aziraphale tenses, straight in his spine. blood races, washing throughout him, surging to his chest. his hands go numb, his feet aren't connected with the ground any longer - at least, not by any sort of sensation. he's floating where he stands, flat to the floor, and yet, lacking anything to keep him still. anything other than gabriel caging him in, making a cell of his stature and width.

"you . . . you know? about _him?_ " aziraphale sucks down a sob, holding it tightly in his throat.

"of course. we have ways of tracking things, aziraphale. heaven _watches._ i've kept the others from seeing, they couldn't be less aware. but i - " 

gabriel doesn't get a chance to fulfill his train of thought. he's cut short, clipped at the quick, as aziraphale barges over the sentence with a mouth to silence gabriel's. tilting him open, pressing past that intolerable barrier, and _licking_ \- licking into him.

"anything," aziraphale gasps heavily, as if the kissing were a form of self-induced drowning, one his lungs ached to get away from. "i'll do anything for you, so long as you don't hurt him."

gabriel keeps him from plunging under that murky water a second time. clamping down on his curls with an iron fist, and holding him still, _glowering._

"i didn't say that to blackmail you into having sex, aziraphale." his voice snaps like tempered chocolate, thin and unnecessarily strained. crisp in every concentrated consonant. "i only wanted to hear you admit it. why you _really_ can't return to heaven."

gabriel lets him go, then. at ease with how aziraphale's demeanor has trickled down to a nerve-bitten, threatless anxiety. there's no danger to be found now. he won't hurt himself like this.

"you chose him over us." the statement still stands. raw and unwoven from tireless threads of centuries-long stress. 

aziraphale fidgets. "the decision isn't final."

gabriel's hands find his face once more, cupping smoothly, around his rounded cheeks. "it can be. all i'm asking for, is to have one time with you where you aren't busy thinking about him."

"you were asking for quite a bit more earlier." 

gabriel chews at his lip, properly stifled. "you're right. that was irrefutably selfish of me."

the air thickens between them, everything getting just that slightest bit stuffier. aziraphale knows what game he's playing. it's a gentle press towards what they both clearly want - a question lacking appropriate punctuation. he nods his head. subtly, sweetly. he'll give in, if only for his own self-benefit.

"seems as if i'm owed some form of apology." aziraphale mutters, staring so intently at the ground he realizes he ought to have the floorboards re-polished - they're looking a bit ill for their troubles, after all, and furthermore, he really should get around to - 

gabriel closes the gap with tasteful violence. nipping at aziraphale's neck, then biting - _hard._ aziraphale buckles, his knees nearly giving out.

"it _seems_ as if you are." gabriel says, kissing chastely over the ruddy bite mark. "whatever shall i do about that?"

aziraphale's patience finally takes a dive, planting roots somewhere deep in the earth's magma. he leans forwards, arms curling around gabriel's neck, and _whimpers._ "whatever you wish, darling."

and he's been on earth for a very long time, surrounding himself with words. gathering up everything from scrolls to hardcovers. but even with all that he's read, all the prose and passages he's memorized throughout the years, he can't think of a synonym for the grand relief he feels at finally being unwound. gabriel's hands upon his vest buttons, plucking him apart, and baring him open with every layer removed.

by the time he gets to skin, aziraphale is shaking worse than he can stand. gabriel drops to his knees in slow increments, kissing and suckling at aziraphale's chest; passing over his stomach with equal enthusiasm. 

"gorgeous," gabriel says, in the kind of hushed tone that implies he's speaking more to himself than he is to aziraphale. somehow, the phrase weighs heavier like that. fingers fidget with a belt buckle, and aziraphale's eyes close with the first waft of cold air on his thighs. metal cracks against wood, and even without sight, aziraphale knows gabriel's let the belt fall to the floor. unmanaged, entirely forgotten. it'll stay that way until he's done with aziraphale. until this inevitably meets an end.

gabriel mouths over the front of him, where his panties have soaked through. an undeniable patch to prove his arousal, standing out against silky white. gabriel's tongue flits out, getting a taste for it. rubbing up against fabric so thin he can make out the rough outline of an undoubtedly slick, swollen labia. 

aziraphale ruts downwards, capturing gabriel's forefinger as it traces through his folds, centering in on his clit. he makes an embarrassingly flustered noise, high and wrecked as it tears up his throat. his only defense is how long he's denied himself this sort of pleasure - it's been centuries, at least, since his last solid touch from another being. human or otherwise. (he wasn't going to limit himself from the few angels who'd be willing to partake in such manners of kind, forgiving sin.)

at first, sleeping around had seemed like a decent way to avoid forming his lust for crowley into proper intent. but as time went on, the more he indulged, the less he was satiated. crowley only seemed all the more tantalizing a lover to take on, challenge himself with. surely, he'd prove himself to exceed aziraphale's already high expectations. especially with those fangs, that sweet, merciful tongue. teasing up between his thighs, his soft curls an ochre velveteen. made to sooth aziraphale's skin where they'd brush against, tickling faintly.

but that isn't who he's being held by right now. and it almost feels insulting to imagine anyone else - even crowley - in gabriel's place. what with all the effort he's putting into this. a firm jaw adding force, sternness to the movement as he grasps with his lips, sucking gently. heat pounds there in dull, metronomic pattern. slowly getting harder, hotter, more pleasantly _dreadful_ to be teased like this.

"please," he speaks on an inhale, oxygen-deprived. "i need you to - to touch - _please,_ gabriel." 

and gabriel, by all means, could have answered quite cruelly. perhaps he might have laid down a _'i am touching you,'_ in the kind of voice that suggested he knew all too well just how _thoroughly_ he was torturing aziraphale. but he didn't. instead, he rolls aziraphale's panties down his hips, letting them bunch at his ankles. he nestles in to lap at the brink of aziraphale's entrance, his tongue thicker than earlier anticipated, wide enough to press the outer lips open. his nose nudges up just right against aziraphale's clit, and the pressure is so shatteringly close to being _enough_ for aziraphale. he grinds his hips, seeking out more of it. more of what gabriel can offer. his hands tousle the perfectly styled hair at his disposal, tugging until it sticks out every which way - reminiscent of all the times he's had to travel by lightning. really, how unnecessary, if he must travel by miracle, at least find something a little less flashy.

"aziraphale," gabriel parts for air, the well-earned evidence of all his hard work slicked down his chin, shining dimly. "can i - " 

"yes," aziraphale helps him to his feet, uncurbed enthusiasm getting the better of him as he clings and latches and _holds._ he can't bear to let go of gabriel. placeholder though he may be. 

gabriel accepts him willingly, twisting aziraphale around to face the bookshelves, hands atop his waist. aziraphale scrabbles for balance, stabilizing himself even as the wood creaks under his pressure.

"why like this?" he asks.

gabriel's reply comes out hot against the curve of his jaw, "so you can imagine him better."

aziraphale groans, trembling wildly. his body goes soft, terrifically overwrought with the absolute _burning_ such a simple sentence brings. he pushes his hips back, wiggling them in a manner that, honestly, makes him feel a little too cheeky. gabriel grips at his hair, fumbling with the downylike fluff as he slips his cock free from his trousers. suddenly, aziraphale is horrendously undressed for the occasion, at least in comparison to him. he's all the more vulnerable like this. on display for gabriel, exposed, and open, and _wanting._ he's never wanted a thing he doesn't need so badly in his life before.

"you're so wet," gabriel notices. "it's dripping all down your thighs."

aziraphale steadfastly refuses to answer, fearing what he might say in his current state. gabriel seems opposed to the silence.

he strokes his fingers up throughout the aforementioned mess - "do you really want him that much?" - and slips them swift into aziraphale's cunt. aziraphale chokes, cupping a palm over his mouth, and shaking his head.

"no? you don't want him?"

aziraphale nods. the fingers inside him twist harder. he winces, then _whines._

gabriel's scowl is almost audible. "liar."

his fingers take pause, slipping from aziraphale before he presses his cockhead right to the pink, sweltering heat - just _waiting._

"tell me if it feels like him, love. at least, how you think he might feel . . . "

and he fucks into aziraphale before there's room to argue that he doesn't _think_ about crowley like that whatsoever. his cock is - dear lord, does he always keep it this size? his cock is huge, taking all the space there is inside aziraphale. he can feel him pulsing against every inch of soft, sensitive flesh. it's so much, so imposing - he almost wants to cry.

(he _likes_ it.)

"is it good, sunshine?" gabriel bucks his hips, making sure aziraphale gasps with the incline. "good enough to be him?"

aziraphale whimpers again, this time coming out stilted and faint, compressed against his hand.

"i should hope it is, i know how much you love _indulging._ "

aziraphale cums. heaven help him, but he cums just from that. just from gabriel knowing exactly what he wants, and giving it to him - _grateful_ to be giving. lord, he's beautiful, he's perfect. in his afterglow thrills, aziraphale finally understands why gabriel can sway the will and opinions of the other archangels so easily.

"poor dear," gabriel tuts, his fingers swooping down to rub at aziraphale's puffy, abused clit. "look at you, couldn't even hold back. so needy."

he shifts his hips further, pressing aziraphale back down onto him. getting deeper inside just like that. aziraphale squirms, beyond capability of doing anything else.

"sit still, and just let me - _fuck._ "

gabriel groans, rutting himself to orgasm. he hardly even thrusts, holding aziraphale upright like his own personal marionette. a beloved doll, only to be treated with the utmost care. aziraphale lets him, aziraphale can't imagine a world in which he'd have the strength to move, even if he'd wanted to.

and when gabriel pulls out, taking a moment to bask in aziraphale's spoiled appearance - damp curls, a red face, an overall utterly ruined angel - he looks, for quite possibly the first time, nothing but proud of him.

**Author's Note:**

> good evening gabriels cum probably tastes like peppermint schnapps and i dont mean that in a good way. he looks like human colgate


End file.
